Uncover
by reyoflight
Summary: Erik wants to know what Christine is daydreaming about. E/C fluff.


Erik ran his fingers expertly along the piano keys. A song emerged from the instrument, romantic and slowly building in power. It was a duet for the latest opera, Semiramide. Christine stood off to the side, holding the music piece in her slender hand. She wore a deep blue gown, simple but lovely. Erik's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her smiling at him, waiting patiently for her entrance. He swallowed and almost missed a note.

"Posture, Christine," he reminded her, feeling himself growing uncomfortably hot. She was too close, and this song was too passionate. Christine straightened immediately, brushing back her long curls. Her smile faded, and she focused her gaze on the paper in her grasp.

 _"Beautiful, divine image, You alone do I adore,"_ Erik began, not daring to look at her as he sung. His hands shook slightly as they brushed over the keys. _"A beautiful, enchanting ray of hope and contentment has shone for me at last."_

When she chimed in, his heart stopped. _"You are my heart, my beloved. I have no dream but the one we share together."_

She was smiling again, her eyes looking dreamily at the piano. Erik gazed at her, taking in how unbearably gorgeous she looked. He noticed belatedly that she had missed her next line.

"Christine, you are not focusing."

She blushed deeply, pursing her lips together sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Erik. I will do better," she promised, and absently smoothed out her skirt with a free hand.

Erik eyed her suspiciously. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was in love! Erik's heart sunk horribly, and he creased his brow anxiously. She wasn't… she couldn't be…

"And just what is keeping your attention from me today?" he asked, more forcefully than he'd intended. "Hmm, Christine?"

"Oh!" She took a step back, her grip tightening on her paper. "It's nothing, Erik. I'm sorry, I- I've been acting foolish. Shall we continue?"

Erik's anger grew. What was she trying to hide from him?

"Thinking of your Vicomte, no doubt!" he lashed out. The fool had been pursuing her for weeks, always waiting by her dressing room, walking her to rehearsals. Christine had swore to him that she was not encouraging it, that it was only friendly. But she could not conceal her heart! And Erik would kill that fop.

"Erik!" Christine protested, taking another step back. She stared at him with a hurt expression. "Of course I'm not! He's only a friend. Why would I think of him during… during a love song!"

"You tell me, my dear," he countered. He was standing now, his impressive height shadowing her petite form.

She stayed silent, her eyes staring unflinchingly into his.

He withdrew from towering over her, but stayed close, his fingertips brushing the tops of the piano keys. Reigning in his aggression, he said with false politeness, "Alright then, my dear. Tell me." When she remained silent, he pressed his fingers into the keys, making a loud, discordant noise. "Tell me what has your attention so raptly!"

"You!" she cried, gesturing to him with exasperation. "You and I! I was…" She looked away, fixing her gaze on the bookshelf across the room. Her face heated considerably, warming the color in her neck and cheeks.

Erik felt his knees go weak, and his form swayed slightly. He steadied himself, holding onto the top of the piano. His head swam with the vision of her, of this beautiful, ridiculous woman, who could have any man she desired. What was she saying?

"You were what, Christine?" he asked, so quietly and meekly she could only understand him in the stark silence.

Her expression softened, and she brought up an unsteady hand, tugging on a curl. Christine shifted her eyes to the floor. "I… I was thinking of my wedding day…" She dared to look up, and met Erik's shaken expression. She heard his sharp intake, and felt utterly embarrassed. "I didn't want to say anything!" she reasoned earnestly. "Please, forget what I said, I-"

" _Our_ wedding day?" he interjected, sounding strained and breathless. His heart was hammering so loudly, he could hardly hear her.

"Yes," she whispered, wringing her hands slowly.

Suddenly he was in front of her, his eyes searching her frantically from behind the mask. "Why? Why would you imagine something like that, Christine? What are you saying?" he begged, trying desperately to contain his hands. Oh, what he would give to touch her!

She stared back at him, letting out a soft breath. "Why?" she echoed. "Oh, Erik…" She shook her head slightly, and a faint smile graced her mouth. "Why would I come to see you daily? Why would I send Raoul away, refusing to let him court me? Why would I sing for you… only you?" Her voice grew quieter, her eyelids heavy, and he took a step towards her, his suit brushing against her dress. "Why would I dream of you? …Of our future?"

"Christine…" Erik whispered painfully, triggering some bravery inside of Christine. She moved her head, tilting it so her mouth was poised at the base of his mask. Their lips were a mere inch apart.

"Please," she whispered, eyelids sliding over blue depths.

When he finally pressed his mouth to hers, he was shaking so badly that it was hardly a kiss. He pulled away quickly, his anguished cried turning into to sobs. He knelt before her, his tall form trembling, and his hands grasped the hem of her cotton skirt.

"Erik!" she breathed, immediately kneeling down with him. She placed a hand on his arm, the other on his masked face. "Oh, Erik…"

He swallowed, his breathing still labored. Tears rained from beneath the mask, sliding along his jaw and onto the floor. "Christine! No one has ever… I never believed _anyone_ could…"

"I love you," she interrupted, leaning her forehead against the top of his mask. "I love you, and I will give you as many kisses as you'd like, for as long as I live."

And just as he began to sob again, she pressed her lips to his, lightly and sweetly. She pulled back, and then kissed him again. And a third time. She moved along his jaw line, up the side of his face, and kissed the top of his head. He moaned and trembled, and whispered her name.

"This isn't real," he whispered in awe. "This is a dream. A heavenly vision…"

Christine smiled, and lifted his mask away. Erik shot out a hand to stop her, crying out with a wild yell, but it was too late. And then she was kissing him again, and nothing else mattered.


End file.
